I Have To Write

Beer and donuts cost money

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I will become a 69-year-old guy next month, edging closer to my sell-by date. Some friends and relatives question my choice of being a writer. They look at me with either sadness or with disdain as if I had declared a wish to become a porn star. I chose to be a writer because I have had my stocks and retirement pension evaporated back in the economic crash of 2008. My last job forced retired…